Bless This Curse
by malreina
Summary: Based on a prompt for Swan Queen Week on tumblr. Emma and Regina are cursed to stick together, quite literally, until they can find it in their hearts to just get along. One-shot, complete.


**A/N: I wrote this story for Swan Queen Week over on tumblr. :D The theme was Magical Mishaps, and the prompt was Stuck Together. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Miss Swan, I specifically requested the rezoning papers _two days_ ago."

"You also said I could hang out with Henry this weekend."

Regina Mills paced the sheriff's office like a caged cat, but at that remark, she slammed both hands flat on Emma Swan's cluttered desk. Behind her, Henry jumped a little and sighed.

"Are you suggesting you're punishing me for rescinding that offer by delaying my paperwork, Miss Swan?" Regina's voice was unsettlingly calm and quiet, but her eyes were nearly aflame. "Because that would be a highly unprofessional conflict of interest. It would reflect _quite_ poorly on your performance review."

Emma folded her hands atop her desk and sat up a little straighter. _Be cool, Emma, be cool_, she thought, but there was fat chance of that. Not with Regina breathing fire down her neck like a goddamn dragon. "Sometimes I just feel like… like you dangle these visits with Henry in front of my face like a dog treat, then yank them away and laugh."

Regina pursed her lips, her jaw clenched. After a moment, she smiled a smile that hinted she was scraping the bottom of the patience barrel. "Henry has a science project due and needs my help."

"I could help him!"

"If I allowed you to help my son, he'd likely hand in a detailed analysis of blood spatter patterns as related to crime scenes."

Emma frowned. "Is that a jab at my jail time?"

"It's a jab at your personality, Miss Swan."

Well, score one for Regina, because it sounded like a pretty damn awesome science project.

"Get me my papers," the older woman continued, "then we'll see about rescheduling your visit."

As Regina turned to leave and grabbed Henry's hand, Emma shot to her feet and slammed a fist on her desk, rattling her pencil cup and spilling drops of coffee from her mug. Regina paused and arched an eyebrow.

"_No_," Emma snapped, "this is bullshit! We rescheduled last week and the week before that. You'll get your papers when I get my time with Henry, _Madame Mayor_."

The look of fury that passed over Regina's face was silent and controlled— the most worrisome kind of all.

"You _dare_ give me an ultimatum?"

"For the kid? Yeah, I dare." Emma leaned forward and gave a slitty-eyed smile. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Regina laughed. "You ignorant fool of a—"

"_Stop_!"

Both women looked to Henry, startled. He was on the verge of tears, his face red and hands balled up in fists. Guiltily, Emma realized she'd forgotten he was even in the room.

"You guys fight over me and I don't get a say at all!" he yelled. "You both say you care about me, but it sure doesn't feel like it!"

Regina winced. "Henry, darling, I'm sorry. I just want—"

"No!" he said. "How 'bout what _I_ want for once? Like, how 'bout you two get along? Why _can't_ you just get along?!" Henry stomped up to his mothers, grabbed their hands, and slapped them together. Emma and Regina exchanged awkward glances. "You should get stuck like this til you're friends!"

A burst of energy suddenly radiated from Henry, a warm wave that left Emma feeling tingly, like pins-and-needles. She frowned in confusion, but across from her, Regina instantly paled, her eyes wide. Emma tried to pull her hand free, but the older woman held it fast.

"Regina, let go."

Regina's brow furrowed and she took a deep breath. "Believe me, I would if I could."

It was then Emma realized Regina wasn't holding her hand tightly at all; she had nothing more than a loose grip on her fingers. Something else kept them bound.

They slowly turned to Henry.

"Magic is about emotion," Regina murmured.

"Wait, _what_?" said Emma. "Henry doesn't have magic!"

"Are we so sure? _You_ didn't know you had magic."

"I didn't mean to!" Henry squeaked.

"I know you didn't, darling, I—" Regina moved to comfort him and inadvertently tugged Emma along with her. Both women scowled. "I think you may have cast a simple curse."

"I _cursed_ you guys?"

"How do we break it?!" said Emma.

"You heard the terms." Regina chewed her lower lip, then closed her eyes and sighed. "Until we're friends."

Holy frickin' Christ, they were stuck forever.

"Whoa, whoa, wait— hang on!" Emma said. "I'm the savior! _I_ can break it, right?"

"You were destined to break _my_ curse, not every curse in existence."

The women stared at one another, then at their fused hands, then at Henry. His tears had dried, and though he tried to hide it, a delighted smile twitched at his lips.

"Sorry!" he said, but he didn't sound the least bit apologetic.

.~.-*-.~.

It quickly became apparent that being forced to hold hands limited Emma and Regina's ability to do anything whatsoever.

Driving was an excellent example that cropped up first. Taking two separate cars was obviously not an option, and regardless, driving one-handed wasn't entirely safe. Chagrined, Emma called her father David, Prince Charming himself, who wasn't so charming after all when he arrived in his pickup and completely failed to stifle a laugh.

With evening quickly descending, they chose Regina's home to crash for the night. Snow White's apartment was cramped enough without adding Regina attached to her daughter.

That would make for uncomfortable dinner table conversation.

Henry they opted to send home with David, lest he wake up and discover his mothers had murdered each other overnight.

As Regina shut the front door behind them, Emma heard her father drive away, engine receding into the distance. They were alone and on their own. She had her phone tucked in her jeans' pocket, Mary Margaret's number on speed-dial, just in case the evening _did_ take a turn towards murder. Emma didn't think that was an actual possibility, though. If anything, she foresaw awkwardness— hundreds of instances of potential awkwardness.

She honestly preferred the murder in comparison.

In the foyer, Regina paused and waved her free hand tiredly. "Make yourself at home, I suppose."

"I think I'll just follow you."

That earned her a baleful look. Emma grinned.

Regina shrugged out of her coat, and Emma followed suit; then they ran into a snag. They both stared at their connected arms and the coats dangling from them. Regina sighed.

"Damn it."

With a sharp flick of her wrist, Regina magically tore the sleeves of both coats, stitches popping and fabric tearing, and the garments fell away.

"Hey!" said Emma. "I _liked_ that coat!"

Regina merely raised an unamused eyebrow at her that said, _Why this plebeian? Of all plebeians, why this one?_ and gave a gentler wave of her hand. The sleeves sewed themselves back up as if nothing had ever happened, and Regina scooped up the coats and hung them on a rack by the door.

Emma cleared her throat. "I thought Henry didn't like you using magic."

"Henry _cursed_ us. I love him more than anything and I'd die for him," Regina said. Then a sort of fire lit up her eyes. "But if he has a problem with me using magic to make this easier for both of us, so help me, I will hold this day over his head until I'm old and grey and he's a grown man."

Emma neglected to mention that Regina was technically in her sixties, as that would likely earn her a knife in the ribs while she slept.

Regina headed for the kitchen and Emma obediently followed, which is to say, she didn't resist very hard. Regina tossed her purse on the kitchen table; Emma stumbled after. She'd never really gotten the chance to take in the house and its decor. The place was immaculate. She had to question whether someone actually lived there, even though she knew very well they did. It looked like a model home, everything in its proper place, no clutter, no knick-knacks, no dust, no disorder. To Emma, it felt like a house, but not a home.

Except the refrigerator door. There, held fast by magnets, were several crayon drawings signed by Henry. Age five, age six, age eight.

Emma smiled.

Regina opened the fridge and rooted around inside. She poked her head out and glanced at Emma. "Would you like anything to eat or drink? I mean, I can't exactly cook a proper meal like this, but…" She helplessly flopped their attached hands.

Emma laughed. Maybe some cheekiness would break the ice between them. "Do you _want_ to see me on the toilet?"

"_Pardon me_?"

Emma quirked an eyebrow. "You realize that's pretty inevitable, right?"

Regina paled. Judging from the way Emma could literally watch the color draining from her lips— _no_, she had _not_ considered that particular situation. She certainly considered it now, as Regina quickly snapped the refrigerator door shut.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Okay, look— we don't have the luxury of months to spend warming up to each other. So we need to get over some basic stuff pretty fast."

"Miss Swan, I haven't had a close, personal friend in a very, _very_ long time. The only person I've shared my life with is an eleven-year-old boy."

"Wow, you should really be more up to date on fart jokes, then."

Regina arched a dangerous brow.

"O-kay," said Emma. "Maybe not."

"Where, exactly, do you suggest we begin?"

Emma considered the possibilities. More than anything, she just wanted a hot shower and a good night's sleep, but there were clearly compromises to be made. Namely that a good night's sleep was nowhere in the books. Tossing, turning, and 'accidentally' smacking each other in the face, yes. Sleep, no.

"All right, why don't we start with a shower? That always makes me feel better," Emma said. "One of us can shower while the other stands outside the tub, then switch it up."

Regina's eyes flicked over her face for a moment, then she nodded. "Fair enough. You _are_ starting to smell a little ripe."

"Hey. You'd stink too if you had to drag some drunk guy's ass out of the dumpster behind the Rabbit Hole."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

Regina sighed and tugged Emma upstairs.

.~.-*-.~.

Where the first floor of the house was stark, Regina's bedroom was far more comfortable. Regina hit the light switch and Emma was greeted with plush carpeting, heavy curtains, and fluffy bedding, all in soft, warm grey and ivory. She'd never seen her bedroom before; it felt intimate, like a part of Regina had been revealed.

On a dresser, Emma spotted several picture frames with a child in the photos. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Is that Henry?"

Regina followed her gaze and gave a slight smile. "Yes. When he was a toddler."

Regina led her to the dresser to get a better look, and Emma picked up one of the frames, aware she held a piece of the past she could never know. Her mouth quirked in a smile at the little guy grinning into the camera. He couldn't have been more than three or four.

"Was he a good kid? No tantrums and stuff?"

"Up until this curse incident, yes," said Regina, and they shared a soft laugh. "He's always been curious and full of questions. Hm— takes after you, I suppose."

As Emma inspected the photographs, Regina picked at the clasp on her necklace and grunted in frustration. Emma set the frame down. "Oh. Here, lemme help. Those are a bitch even with two hands. Hold the other end?"

"Thank you," Regina murmured as Emma undid the clasp and slid the necklace into the older woman's hand.

Emma's eyes traveled over the room as Regina hung the necklace in a jewelry box. She caught sight of one more picture frame on the nightstand, small and unobtrusive. She squinted. A baby in swaddling.

Emma gently touched Regina's shoulder and pointed to the tiny frame. Regina met her eyes and nodded.

Emma moved to the nightstand, Regina following with no protest. She hesitantly lifted the frame and touched the photo— a skinny little baby wrapped in a blue blanket. His eyes were shut tight and his head still had that newborn misshapenness to it. Regina seemed to sense her thoughts.

"Henry's first day with me. I was told he'd been born four days earlier."

Emma's heart jumped in her throat. Her eyes stung. "I'd recognize that little squished face anywhere," she said, her voice cracking.

Regina was silent for a few moments, then swallowed. "You gave him up because it was best for him, not because you didn't love him. Believe me, I understand that better than you'd think."

Emma cleared her throat and quickly set the photo down. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"You're welcome," Regina said quietly.

Regina pulled her into the master bath, though her tugging seemed more gentle now.

As the light went on, Emma's eyes snapped open wide. The bathroom was bigger than her bedroom at Mary Margaret's place. That wasn't very difficult to achieve, but still— this was luxury. Regina clearly noted the look on her face.

"Doesn't compare to that hovel you share with Snow White, does it?"

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to be nice to each other," said Emma.

"Ah, yes, of course. Let me rephrase that. This is above your typical standards, isn't it, Miss Swan?" Regina pronounced each word like she imagined drop-kicking Emma out the window.

Emma grinned.

The decor was mostly white with accents of black. White marble tile, white walls, white cabinetry. Black hardware, black rugs, black towels. Black and white— Regina really seemed to like that color scheme. Which was sort of hilarious, considering she fell into such a morally grey area herself. Nothing about the woman was clear-cut black and white except her taste in interior decorating.

Here and there, however, were bright splashes of red. Blood-red carnations in a tiny vase on the countertop. A candy-apple red bathrobe, slinky and silky, hung from a hook by the shower.

Whoa. The shower.

Now _that_ was a shower.

A big, roomy stall-type shower; none of that tub-and-curtain business here. Emma suspected it was large enough that she wouldn't even smack her elbows into the wall while she washed her hair.

Mary Margaret's bathroom really did sort of suck.

"Like what you see?"

"You know how to live, I'll give you that."

Regina gave her a halfway-genuine smile.

"Lady of the house first," said Emma. "After you."

"Your generosity is appreciated, but we may as well both get undressed now." Regina gestured at their shirts, her fingers sparkling with magic. "I need to do more on-the-fly alterations."

Oh. Right.

Emma shifted uncomfortably. There was one small problem with this whole curse set-up that she'd ignored until now. A big problem, really. She'd tried shoving it to the back of her mind for as long as possible, but now she was forced to confront it. She wasn't easily embarrassed and didn't share Regina's delicate sensibilities regarding bodily functions; that wasn't an issue.

What _was_ an issue was her slight crush on the older woman.

Huge crush, actually. Major crush.

Fine, damn it, she had it bad for Regina.

Sometimes Emma thought she was so quick to anger around her because it was the only emotion she could passionately display without drawing funny looks, particularly from the mayor herself.

Regina raised an eyebrow and twirled her finger. "Turn around, please."

Oh god. She had _not_ thought this shower business through.

Emma turned, twisting both their arms in the process. She popped the buttons open on her blouse and shucked the fabric, skin prickling with the awareness that Regina was doing the same. She unzipped her jeans and pushed them down her thighs, kicking the denim off her feet. Behind her, Regina coughed nervously.

"Miss Sw— Emma. I could use a hand, quite literally."

Emma slowly turned and held her breath at the sight of Regina in nothing but a black bra and matching panties.

_Holy shit_, Emma thought. _Holy flying fuck_.

Regina looked over her shoulder and pulled at her bra hook with her free hand. "If you could help," she said, a blush creeping up her neck. "Please."

Emma lifted a shaky, palms sweating, and held one end of Regina's bra while Regina unhooked the other. Her bra fell away, and she slid the strap down their connected arms. Emma quickly turned back around, unsure she could trust to her brain to continue functioning if she caught a glimpse of Regina's breasts.

Emma fidgeted as they performed the same maneuver on her own bra. Regina sliced the sleeves and bra straps off their arms, as she had with their coats, and neatly magicked the clothing back together. All the two of them sported now were panties. Emma held an arm across her chest and kept her eyes on the floor as Regina stepped out of her underwear.

Emma sucked in a breath and turned her back to the woman.

She heard the shower door open and water spray to life.

"You can put on my bathrobe if you're cold," said Regina.

"Thanks," Emma said and slipped the red silky robe over her shoulders. What Regina mistook for shivering, however, was really Emma's knees quaking as they prepared to give out.

Regina stepped into the shower, but several new problems became immediately apparent. The door would not close all the way due to their arms hanging through it, and Regina couldn't fully stand beneath the water with her arm twisted at such an awkward angle. Emma listened to her valiantly struggle to reach the shampoo for a few minutes.

"All right." Regina stuck her head through the door. "This isn't working."

Emma reluctantly met her eyes, steadfastly refusing to look lower.

"Get in here," Regina said.

"_What_?"

"We're both grown women. It's nothing we haven't seen before."

But even Emma heard the quaver in Regina's voice. Emma stared dumbly.

"While the water's still hot, please," said Regina.

Emma gulped and felt like she swallowed a pound of rocks as her stomach sunk and clenched, her heart fluttering like a crack-addled butterfly. She slipped the robe off her shoulders and hurriedly pulled off her panties. She wondered desperately what possible gods she'd pissed off. The god of vengeful eleven-year-olds, apparently. This wasn't going to work, it wasn't, just let her die now, let it all be over.

An inexorable force pulled her into the shower— it was named Regina.

Tentatively, Emma cracked one eye open, unsure when she shut them.

She stood transfixed by Regina's bare back. It was like a blank canvas, smooth and unblemished. Her own back was a network of old bruises and scars— spidery silver lines and one dark splotch from a gunshot wound. Trophies of her bounty hunter days.

She swallowed hard as she watched water race across Regina's skin.

"I trust you'll keep staring at a minimum," the older woman said.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled.

As Regina looked over her shoulder, Emma could swear she smirked. She passed Emma a bar of soap.

"Uh— what do you want me to do with this?"

"I'd suggest you wash your mouth out with it, but I was hoping you'd soap me up," said Regina. "Between us, we've got two good hands. Let's call it teamwork, shall we?"

A bolt of heat shot straight between Emma's legs.

She lathered up the soap in her free hand and reached for Regina's back with the same enthusiasm she reserved for touching hot stoves. As her palm and fingers slid over Regina's soft skin, Emma bit her tongue to stifle a groan. Her heart slammed hard, and even in the steamy shower, she could feel herself getting wet. She wanted more. She wanted her whole body pressed against Regina so badly, it ached.

"I can't do this. Regina, I can't."

Her breath hitched; she tossed the soap to the floor.

"Miss Swan, this was your idea…"

"I have feelings for you."

Regina was silent. Emma hugged her free arm tight around her chest. Maybe this was the best time to put this out in the open, where neither one of them could run away from it. Maybe one day, she'd look back on this and laugh herself silly.

Right now, her stomach was a painful knot.

"I know… I know this isn't what you ever wanted to hear. You think I'm the bitch trying to take your son," Emma said, just to fill the silence. Water pattered on the shower floor, sounding as empty as her words felt. "But that's not how it is for me. This started out about Henry, yeah, but now it's about you too. And it's harder every day because I know you want nothing to do with me."

"Contrary to what you may think," Regina quietly said, "I don't hate you, Emma."

"Could have fooled me."

Regina's shoulders slumped

"I know. I… I'm used to fear and hatred. Even Henry's been scared of me these last few years," she said with a regretful laugh. "Other than him, you're the first person in a long time to show me any friendliness, but I've forgotten how to respond. So I mistrust it instead."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think it may be time I was actually open with someone," said Regina, shaking their fused hands to make a point. "Henry wanted us to be friends, but you _are_ the closest thing I have to a friend, Emma."

Regina turned around to face her, and Emma sucked in a shaky breath at the sight of Regina's firm breasts, her hard brown nipples, the curve of her naked hips, the neatly trimmed hair between her legs. Their bodies were close. _So close_. Emma felt herself throbbing. She closed the distance between them, felt Regina's breasts against her chest, just below her own. She pressed herself into her body and nearly whimpered with happiness when Regina's arm snaked around her waist, fingers kneading Emma's skin.

Emma caught her lips in a kiss and felt Regina give a soft moan against her mouth. Water tumbled over their shoulders and slicked their skin, but nothing could warm her like Regina's hand tucked between them, stroking her nipple.

Wait.

One hand was already on her ass. Where the other one… come… from—

"_Holy shit_!" said Emma.

She grabbed Regina's two hands with her _own_ two hands and excitedly slapped them together in a double high-five, both of them soaking wet in more ways than one. It had to be the most ridiculous sight in Storybrooke at that given moment, but Emma didn't care. The curse had broken!

"We're free!"

The two women exchanged suddenly shy grins, then Regina guided Emma's hands back around her hips.

"That isn't any reason to stop, though, is it?" she said.

"Of course not," said Emma, pulling her close. "In fact, I think we're gonna be a hell of a lot more than friends by morning."


End file.
